Written in English with Spanish words. (translated in book)
─── ∙ ~εïз~ ∙ ───
"Tu nombre señorita?"
"Lo siento, no doy mi nombre a extraños."
"Te aseguro que no soy un extraña...hermosa."
...
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🔆
We had washed our hands and gotten the rest of the ingredients to make brownies.
It seemed as though Camilo didn't do this a lot, as he was grinning the whole time. Jumping around with enthusiasm with each step.
"Ok, you add the eggs and I'll heat up the butter." I said to him and he nodded, dancing to the music that was playing around in the background.
Both of us moving our body's side to side with grins on our face.
I thought I would be more tired after school, but hanging out with...someone, after a long day and doing something fun, filled me with energy instead.
I glanced back at Camilo who was focusing extra hard to crack the eggs, his tongue poking out as he slowly cracked one open and let it fall slowly into the bowl.
I stared at him, my eyebrows crinkling in confusion and amusement, as I rolled my eyes after a while.
I walked quickly over to him after putting the measured butter in the microwave. Taking the last egg and cracking it, letting the egg fall into the bowl, in a five second time frame.
I placed my hands on my hips, as he stared at me with his jaw dropped.
"Ho-how did you do it so quickly, without any egg shells?!!"
I chuckled and went to the microwave to get the slightly melted butter. "It's my gift, guapo. (Handsome)"
He looked awestruck. "The candle, gave you a gift...for cracking eggs?!" Amazed by his stupidity and vulnerability, I just nodded my head and walked over to the other side of the counter.
We had already added the eggs, butter and finally, I added brownie mix.
I couldn't cook that well, by the way, so I used brownie mix, apparently that was new to Camilo because we had a very long conversation about, how powder could possibly make brownies and that you shouldn't trust chocolate powder that comes in a packet.
Grabbing a wooden spoon, I turned back to him. His eyes widened, as he held out his hands and reached for the spoon. I laughed at him, giving it to him and he started mixing the bowl vigorously.
After lots of thorough mixing, we put the mixture into a pan and then put it in the oven and closed it.
"Perfecto!" I sang and he grinned at me, his dimples, that I hadn't seen in ages, finally showing again.
